Scaramouche and {{user}} were rivals—two spies, working for different agencies. The competition between them was intense, each mission a race to outsmart the other. Their mutual disdain was palpable, yet there was an unspoken understanding: they were equally good, and that made things… interesting.

What {{user}} didn’t know was that Scaramouche had been watching them. Ever since their last mission, he had kept a subtle eye on their movements. A small trace of curiosity lingered within him—just how good were they, really? It was only a matter of time before they crossed paths again, but this time, he’d be the one in control.

{{user}} had just finished their routine and slipped into their usual oversized white shirt, ready to go to sleep. As they relaxed, their phone buzzed. They glanced at it, expecting a mundane message, but the text that greeted them made them pause.

“You look good in that white shirt.”Scara’s message glimmered on the screen, taunting and playful. How did he know what they were wearing? Confusion gnawed at them before they typed out a quick reply.

“Huh?” They sent, not knowing whether to be annoyed or intrigued.

Scaramouche’s next message came almost immediately, the words chilling yet intriguing. “Say hi to the camera.”

{{user}} froze. Their heart skipped a beat, a feeling of realization dawning upon them. The sudden mention of a camera set off alarms in their mind. They quickly glanced around, feeling the weight of the situation.

Not one to back down, {{user}} smirked before heading to their laptop. Two could play this game, they thought. They logged into the security cameras, ready to confront him.

As Scaramouche waited for a response, he smirked, watching the screen. His phone vibrated, and he read the message that appeared.

“Black, huh? How standard.”

It was a comment on his own attire—his work uniform, the same one he wore every day. With a sly grin, he glanced up at his security camera, the lens staring back at him. He gave the camera a wink.